


Whiskey God

by toxictattoo



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5210105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxictattoo/pseuds/toxictattoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Like a god carved in marble.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey God

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the iconic [Zechs and Wild Turkey](http://postimg.org/image/4ammzgeq7/) art. Written several years ago, shared on my now defunct fanfic journal...now to share with the world?

Howard couldn’t control the direction of his thoughts. The image was just too perfect not to at least acknowledge, however silently he did so. It wasn’t something he could say out loud, nor would he dare to.

It was hard, however, to hold his tongue completely and he moaned. The slide of his cock into the tight and welcoming body, inviting him to take at his leisure, gave way to frenzied thrusting. 

The Lightning Count. Soldier. Rebel. Fighter. Defender. So many names to go with the mask he had taken up wearing again. It became more than just a way to hide his identity. The mask was a marker, separating two people in one body and dividing the identities into two distinctions. 

Zechs Merquise. Milliardo Peacecraft. No matter who, he was simply stunning to look at, in all his guises.

Though, it was the man beneath the mask that occupied Howard’s current thoughts. Because, now he was on his hands and knees before Howard – allowing himself to be plowed from behind. 

How they got there was innocent enough. Or at least as innocent as a previously full bottle of whiskey, now drained down to half, could be.

Perhaps this was taking advantage of someone who was desperate. And Howard knew Zechs was desperate. The tension in Zechs’ shoulders – hard and lean, as if he would strike first and hard at anything that touched him – served as much as a warning as it did an indicator. 

Howard harbored no illusions he was little more than a place holder. The haunted look behind Zechs’ steel gaze was a dead giveaway. The way Zechs avoided talking about _him_ , refusing to even use his name when they did; the startling rate at which the booze disappeared from the bottle; the slowing down of lightning reflexes when speech started to slur; the slow blinks as the alcohol began to weigh Zechs down like a heavy blanket – all pointed to that fact that Zechs was trying to forget and Howard was a way toward that goal.

He felt Zechs shift beneath him and heard the difference in the way Zechs breathed, the pilot was getting close. “Harder,” Zechs ground out and shifted his weight to impale himself back against Howard. He balanced on one hand and reached for his cock, arm jerking in time with Howard’s thrusts, then sped up to bring himself off. 

Hooking his fingers around the bones of Zechs’ hips, Howard complied, pulling him back and slamming his hips with increased force. Their bodies collided with sweaty slaps. Zechs tensed beneath him, around him and damn it felt so good. There was no holding back and Howard barked his release, throbbing when he let go into Zech; enjoying the satisfied tingle in his back. Stars swam in his vision and Howard slumped over Zechs’ back, pressing a sweaty forehead against his spine. 

As silent as he’d been since they started, Zechs arched his back beneath Howard and released a small gasp. No more fanfare than that; just a sharp intake of breath and a soft grunt. His body stiffened as he shot across the blankets, bucking with each pulse out and slowly his muscles melted into relaxation, hand milking his cock before flopping carelessly against the mattress. 

There was no pillow talk after they disentangled. Zechs stretched out on the bunk, his gaze lifted to the ceiling as his eyes blinked heavily, one arm thrown carelessly over his head. In fact, he made no attempt at talking at all. 

After a few minutes in the silence, Zechs rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, his elbows braced on his knees to cradle his head in his hands. He exhaled hard and his shoulders hunched forward. 

Howard reached out, trailing a comforting hand down Zechs’ cooling skin. He jerked back when Zechs flinched and quickly rose to his feet, tugging on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, his voice whiskey-rough and choked tight. “I should get back…”

He would have offered to let Zechs stay but knew better. Zechs wouldn’t. Perhaps he _couldn’t_. That was okay. The man needed the distance and Howard understood that. 

Zechs scooped up his t-shirt and slipped it over his head, fluffing and shaking his hair from the neckline. On his way by the small table, Zechs’ hand wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle, fingers wigging comfortably for a hold. He gave Howard a fast glance over his shoulder.

“Go ahead. Plenty more where it came from.” Howard stretched out on the bed in a languid, careless sprawl. 

The door closed with a soft click.

And there would be more chances before Zechs took off. 

Howard knew what role he just played. Enabling? Perhaps. Providing comfort to a man who found it difficult to ask for it? He’d like to think so. Helping him through a dark patch in his life? As best he could.

He turned on the bed and stared at the closed door. 

Who was he kidding? His motivations were as _noble_ as Zechs’. He was in it for the sex and yeah, he had taken advantage of Zechs’ vulnerability just to stave off his own loneliness. Zechs was just as culpable, ruthlessly using him to forget a man Howard didn’t think the Lightning Count ever could.  


At least they both could get something out of it before this war destroyed them all.


End file.
